


Sequal of Us

by ButtLordLunaPower



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Francis and Arthur write a story together, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, it's super fluffy, just read it please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 14:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17428118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButtLordLunaPower/pseuds/ButtLordLunaPower
Summary: In which France and England attempt to write porn.Warnings:  Hilariously badly written straight foreplay





	Sequal of Us

**Author's Note:**

> The writer: Alumac wrote this on LJ, if this is requested to be taken down, I'd be more than happy to!

_**Sequel of us** _   
  


“Dude.” Alfred commented, squinting his eyes at the screen in front of him. “You totally told me this would be something big. Like, BigMac big. You said Artie stores something highly inappropriate and embarrassing on his computer, something worse even than those pictures you brought with him, his waiter uniform and a rubber octopus toy. You promised that hacking into his computer and viewing his recent documents will give us something that will totally knock him off a few pegs and finally he’ll stop looking at everyone like they’re even less than crumbs from his biscuits and what’s more important, he’ll never, ever dare to insult the highly sophisticated American culture... but this...” He gestured helplessly to the screen in front of the two of them and straightened up. “This is not even small fries!”

Francis, who had the honour of occupy the only free chair in the room, frowned, staring at the line of text in front of him. “Surely I didn’t say all of that.” He was quite certain he said sophisticated  _French_  culture, thankyouverymuch. “I simply said that recently, our dear rosbif was particularly... territorial about his laptop. He jumps up, goes red in the face and closes it as soon as someone gets within ten feet distance from him. Not to mention he brings it with himself everywhere he goes.”

His report, the result of many painful minutes he had to spend looking at Arthur’s eyebrows (and he isn’t getting those minutes of his, err, eternal life back, too!) only earned him an eye roll. “Dude, maybe he just wants to work. You know how Artie is. Doing paperwork is his biggest entertainment in life, not counting knitting socks. He probably got some ridiculously boring assignment from his boss and is all giddy about it.” The American pointed out unenthusiastically.

Francis gave the younger nation a heavy stare. “He took it with himself to the pub.”

That actually made Al reconsider his statement. Arthur highly overestimated his alcohol holding capacities but wasn’t dumb. He was aware that mixing work and alcohol isn’t the best idea. He had to be, with all these photo evidence Francis stored that recorded Arthur’s drunken behaviour. (That and last time Arthur had an access to work in a pub, he ended up sending emails to members of various embassies in London, with very detailed information just what exactly he hated about them and their countries. The British diplomacy was in frenzy, trying to cover it up and Indie was still glaring at him each time he passed.)

“He also took it with him to the toilet.” Alfred heard Francis say and made a face, all the fond memories successfully vanishing from his mind as he forced his brain not to imagine that one. “Ew, man. Gross. Do I even wanna know how you know that?”

Francis waggled his (perfectly shapely) eyebrows at him. “Oh, I have my ways~”

Alfred took a step away from the Frenchman.

Francis sighed. “I heard him typing on the keyboard when I entered. There was no one else in the bathroom and he was humming his anthem. Really, as much as I’m flattered you think my certain abilities are so great, sometimes I feel compelled to point out I do have my pride.”

“Right.” Alfred interrupted hurriedly because Francis’ pride was the last topic he’d like to discuss. Especially with Francis. “So, it’s not his work purpose, maybe.”

“I would think so.” Francis nodded. And pointed at the screen. “Especially since he’s latest used document is a romance novel.”

“Oh, yea!” Alfred remembered and laughed loudly, which was his own, American equivalent to ‘Eureka!’. “So he found a good book and he can’t get away from it! It’s no big deal; I get like that too, only with video games!”

“But why would he hide it?” Francis frowned, long and slender fingers tapping on the surface of the desk now. “I mean, the whole world knows rosbif is a closet romantic soul. Everyone is aware of his secret cheap romance miniature library he hides behind the ‘Economy’ section’s shelf. Why does he hide it?”

“Maybe he’s in denial again.” Alfred suggested. “Like the whole thing with him cooking edible food. Everyone knows only USA fast foods are edible!”

_ Like mother country, like colonies. _  Francis rolled his eyes. Hiding aside, why did suddenly Arthur start to read on the computer? Francis knew for a fact that the Brit loved nothing more than the feel of paper against his fingers, the steady weight of a volume in his hands, preferable with a leather cover and golden letters, the pages slightly worn and yellow, battered by time and by the thousands of caresses fingers made, worshipping almost, as they were read over and over again. Arthur firmly believed there was no other way to read than with a cup of tea, a comfortable armchair and the good, traditional way of soaking up the words, the letters, which used to be so rare and special and now came with such ease.

Francis couldn’t imagine him suddenly reading his new favourite novel in a PDF file, sitting in the toilet.

He idly scanned the text, scrolling down and stopped at the very end, eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise.

_ And then, the courageous knight in his shining armour, ventured fearlessly into the lair of the Tomato Beast, outsmarting the vile and dumb creature with his wits, which were only secondary to his brilliant looks. His glistening sword beheaded the hideous monster and, with gentleness unexpected from a ruthless warrior such as he is, he scooped the fragile beauty into his arms. _

_ "Are you well, my fair lady?" he asked, his deep, manly voice echoing around them. The lady swooned, enchanted by the very epitome of manhood standing in front of her. _

_ "Yes, my noble sir, now I am." she whispered, her delicate frame trembling, blue eyes filling with tears and gratitude. "I have understood the superiority of Englishman. I forever abandon my frog culture and wish to spend my life with you, surrounded by the splendour of Great Britain and your strong arms!" _

_ The knight gave her an understanding smile and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her full, trembling lips. She gasped and her cheeks suddenly filled with the loveliest pink flush, blooming on the pale skin like two roses. "Your wish is my command, my lady, for I am a true gentleman." _

The last passage clearly showed that the book was far from being finished. Well, perhaps not far, but it clearly wasn’t the end just yet.

“It’s not even that good.” Alfred complained from his left side. “I mean, the hero is all wrong, y’kno? It’s just some guy dressed in metal! He doesn’t even have any super powers! You know, if I was writing it, he would’ve lifted a boulder and smashed the monster. And his outfit would be all bright and tight and he’d have a cool name, like Alfred, and a logo. And...”

But Francis wasn’t listening. He was staring at the screen, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, resembling a dead goldfish.

Because, in that very moment, he understood.

He was about to share his epiphany with his American friend and interrupt the endless chatter coming from his mouth, when he paused and closed his mouth with a quiet click. No, this would not do. This matter had to be handled carefully, with subtlety the American lacked. He couldn’t afford to let Alfred just go out and blabber it to everyone he stumbles upon. That would simply not do.

“Alfred.” He said instead, his face carefully neutral, tone nonchalant. “I agree, it was my misunderstanding. There is nothing remotely interesting here. However... would it be possible for me to access Arthur’s computer from my laptop and this particular document any time I pleased? I got into the story and would like to find out what happens next and I’m afraid Arthur didn’t put the ending here just yet.”

Alfred gave him one of his ‘I don’t even wanna know’ looks but with a promise of Francis making him a big, generous in sugar and calories cake, he agreed.

*~*~*~*

Evenings such as this, with heavy rain outside and a warm fire crackling in the fireplace, hot tea next to him, were exactly the moments he lived for.

Arthur felt a content smile graze his lips, confident his perfect evening cannot simply go wrong. He had a day off and he spent it on relaxing after that tiring trip and even more tiring meeting that ended just yesterday. Now, he was finally alone in his cozy home and with his laptop in front of him.

His mind was relaxed and in top form. His tea was ready. (he gave the warm cup a fond brush of fingers against the edge, feeling the steam still coming from the liquid).

Nothing could go wrong.

Still wearing that small, confident smile he opened his file, briefly re-read the last few lines he already memorized (he redid them so many times until they sounded just right), lifted the cup to his lips and got ready to write the next part.

Except... someone already wrote it for him.

_ “A true gentleman, you say?” The lady fluttered her eyelashes at the man, a seductive smile grazing her red lips as she took a step closer, pressing her full and magnificently perky bosom to the strong and hard armour of the man. He gulped, his eyes darting to the impressive cleavage despite his best efforts not to do so. _

_ "Why, my brave man..." The lady purred out, pressing yet harder. "May I perhaps show my utmost gratitude? My life....and my body.... are in your hands now. You have used your sword to slay the vile beast imprisoning me; now, shall you use your other sword to free me from these earthy bounds and bring me into heavenly pleasure?" _

_ The knight gulped again, his desire now very much obvious and the lady smirked, licking her lips. Her hands sneaked to the clasps holding the armour together and she began to undo them. "Free yourself from your clothing, noble sir... For this battle, no armour is needed, except our bodies... And this battle aims not to bring pain but pleasure..." The armour clattered to the floor. _

As if on cue, Arthurs numb fingers also chose this precise moment to allow the teacup slip from his grasp and crash onto the floor.

He was perfectly aware of the blazing red blush on his face as he closed his eyes, took few deep breaths and looked again.

It was still there. Mocking him.

There was only one person in the entire  _world_ that would be able to come up with this preposterous, shameless parody of fine writing.

This whole thing  _reeked_  of frog.

First instinct Arthur had was to delete every single word not written by himself and then replacing it with his own classy style, however, with his finger hovering above the delete button, he paused. Somehow... that would be like admitting defeat. Like France (because who else would try to pass this poorly disguised porn as literature) was aware that merely reading the passage made Arthur blush, made him fidget uncomfortably in his chair. And each time that wine beardo will smirk at him (and he tended to do it quite often) Arthur will be able to think only how he practically run away from few sentences the Frenchman wrote.

Like he was some virgin boy reading his first dirty magazine. (And people weren’t even naked in it yet!)

Because this is what it was. A challenge and ignoring it would equal admitting defeat.

Unacceptable. Even less when he was against that frog.

So, eyes narrowing in a dangerous, predatory gaze, lips curling in a feral snarl, Arthur started to type, his fingers furiously hitting the keyboard.

_ ~*~*~* _

_ The loud clatter of metal hitting the ground awoke the knight from the astonishment that rendered him speechless for a very, very short moment (for his wits were too sharp for the surprise to last longer). “My lady.... I am honoured you wish to show me your gratitude.” He spoke, his voice calm, completely unaffected by the shameless performance of the promiscuous woman. “However, I do it neither for glory nor for rewards. My heart finds happiness and my body finds satisfaction only when I slay the evil lurking around.” _

_ He did not even twitch, completly unfazed, despite the woman’s best efforts. For despite his magnificent looks, his courage and wisdom, the knight was gloriously modest, seeing himself as no better than any other human being. He was unaware of all the young maidens, shyly looking away, trying to cover the innocent, pink blush on their cheeks, the sign of first, pure love. He did not see them swoon and sigh, did not know of many dreams that he caused and only reacted with confusion at the looks of pure, raw envy other men shot his way as he passed. _

Francis hummed to himself, reading the newest paragraph that appeared in Arthur’s document just the day after he wrote his. Well... this was more than he expected. He expected either Arthur would delete his every word or write profanities, insulting Francis, his country, his nation, his history, his culture and his tendency to be rather open about body desires, so to speak.

He wasn’t complaining, though. This was much more than he’d ever hope for. His lips twitched in an amused grin as he tapped his fingers on the desk. “Rosbif, are you challenging me when it comes to romance? Me, the country of love? Oh rosbif, you never learn, do you?” he tsked.

Pierre chirped in agreement from behind him.

And with a lazy smirk, Francis got down to writing his own reply.

 *~*~*~*

_ The lady listened to the knight’s words, the confident smirk still grazing her lips. “If you say so, my dear sir... you must have never tasted the pleasure of a woman’s touch.” She purred, her pink tongue darting from her mouth to slowly wet her lips, making them glisten temptingly. _

_ “Fate must have led you to my hands tonight, for you could not find a madam more skilful than me, even if you reached the world’s very end.” She whispered, her body pressing against the knight’s now that the front of his armour was gone. As their chests pressed together, she could feel his rapidly thumping heart and her own, responding to in similar fashion. She could tell that the man in front of her felt the steady thumping as well, despite that her bosom was very, very generous indeed. _

_ “My heart heard your plight and it goes out to you so strongly...” she whispered, her voice dripping seduction, promising pleasure a mortal has unheard of before. “Can you feel it? Can you feel it beat so strongly, just for you...?” _

_ And, with a gentle yet firm hold, she grasped the knight’s hand and pressed it to her breast. _

_ ~*~*~* _

_ The knight then understood that the woman in front of him is no lady at all. She might have the body of a maiden, but her heart and soul were more dirty and vile than the beast he has just slain. “I must refuse your generous offer, madam.” He replied, his tone gentle and polite, for he was, above anything else, a true gentleman. With a firm, manly gesture he pulled his hand away and took a step back. His body was not responsive at all, for he had no desire in such primal, lust-based, sinful acts. Only an innocent act of pure and true love could spark desire in his body. _

_ “Allow me to escort you to your home; and then I shall be on my way.” He repeated, his voice full of authority and power and absolutely no desire whatsoever. His spirit and heart were too pure and honest to succumb to such acts and the woman would not succeed in dragging him down her path of degradation. _

_ ~*~*~*~ _

_ The lady couldn’t help but chuckle at this clear display of stubbornness. The knight was quite adorable, trying to act tough, trying to pretend such petty matters as lust and desire did not apply to him and he was above them all. She knew better, however; she could always tell when a man or a woman desired her, as her beauty and body were the dream of every human being and her looks were blessed with perfection. Words could never give her enough justice and to say her hair flowed onto her pale, soft and well-shaped shoulders like a cascade of pure gold, to which not even sun rays could compare, that her eyes were more blue than a clear, summer sky and deeper than the oceans, that her skin felt like velvet and her lips were more beautiful and redder than petals of a red rose – to say all that, would be an insult to her beauty. _

_ “Oh, my knight...” she sighed and took a step forward, her hand reaching out to cup his cheek, gentle fingers caressing the rough skin, marred by many battles and sun. “There is no need to feel ashamed; this is an act of nature, after all. An act that nature gifted us with, something we can prove our humanity with, to show that, despite we function similarly to animals, we are humans – because we do it to bring each other pleasure, not to reproduce. There is no shame in this; no shame in showing love.” _

_ And then she smirked and her hand moved lower, delighted when her hand found the familiar hot, hardness between the knight’s armoured legs. It was harder than steel itself and she couldn’t help the pleased smile. _

_ ~*~*~ _

_ The hardness the lady found was a secret knife the knight carried around, for defence purpose. For he never forgot his duty and he was always prepared, always ready for action. However, it was only a matter of last measure and as the knight was the most skilful of all, it always lay there, unused, and it grew warm from the warmth of his body. _

_ “You dare to call this love?” He protested, anger taking over his stern, manly features. For he would never stand the abomination of the world’s purest, most sacred feeling and this woman in front of him dared to insult what he treasured most, dared  to offend his dreams and shy hopes for the future of his life. “What you do is no love! You seduce anyone with your wicked ways, you strip this act of all its’ sacredness, of all that is special and holy! You have no right to even speak of love, when all you do is an abomination of that glorious feeling. You, madam are the very opposite of love. Lust, however, is your specialty.” _

_ ~*~*~*~* _

Two days passed and Francis had yet to reply to him.

“I don’t even know where to begin to describe how wrong this is.” His loyal fairy, Puck, commented, as he pressed on the mouse to scroll down the document before floating up again to the screen to read the next part.

“Tell me about it.” Arthur gruffly replied from the armchair he was sitting on, few meters away, with a book in his hands. It was opened on the same page for an hour now. “I was about to write porn with my most hated enemy who is a frog on top of that.”

“And a bad written porn, as if that wasn’t enough.” Puck pointed out as he got to the very ending.

Arthur spluttered. “Hey! Only half of it was badly written! I see no flaw in my parts!”

“No one writes like that in modern times, Britannia. Your style might’ve worked two centuries ago.” Puck gave him a heavy stare and Arthur glared right back before the fairy sighed and turned his attention back to the screen. “... You do realize that the two of them are still standing in that cave, with the beast’s guts splattered all around them as they’re making out, right?”

“Yes, I do. It’s not important anyway.” The Brit waved his hand dismissively. The whole story was not important. It was supposed to be a practice, to see if his writing skills are good enough before he starts to write something serious. It was just a simple, short tale, with a laughingly simple plot. A grand knight comes to a village plagued by a beast that kidnapped some beautiful maiden, he rescues her and defeats the monster and everyone lives happily ever after. How did it turn into this mess anyway?

More importantly, he still hadn’t managed to figure out how the hell that frog gets access to his computer. Bloody hell.

“Oh dear...” Puck huffed as he read the last lines. “I believe you messed up a bit here, Britannia. Not to mention the knight got a bit out of character.”

“It’s not my fault!” Arthur said defensively, snapping the book shut, losing all pretence he was focusing on it. “The frog was going to practically screw right there and then! It wasn’t supposed to happen in the first place! I had to stop this... this verbal fornication somehow!”

“It would be quite amusing for me, if it wasn’t so pathetic and sad.” Puck continued, now hovering annoyingly around Arthur’s head. “I mean, first you practically fight over and over with the man you’ve been crushing on since you were a wee little child-“

“-I never crushed  _on_  him, I wanted to crush  _him_ , it’s a difference, you-“

“-and after over a millennia of such foreplay, now you start it all over only on paper. Usually it would take me tons and tons of tricks and magic to make people behave so stupidly and yet you two manage to do it by yourselves. I’m a bit impressed.” The fairy added, sounding genuinely awed and completely ignoring Arthur’s protests.

The Brit soon gave up on trying to convince his fairy and sighed, slumping in the chair instead. “Even if I had a... tiny, smallest bit of fondness towards the frog – which I don’t – there is no way I’d just pursue it. He sleeps around like... like a giant frog sleeping around and he has no taste in picking his partners whatsoever!”

Puck snickered. “Still sore about Gaul’s – whoops, force of habit; France’s relationship with your brother and then Spain? Honestly, Britannia; he might be a nation but his body functions like a young male’s. Did you expect him to be an over thousand year old virgin until you get over your imperial phase and grow up emotionally?”

Arthur glared. “Are you saying the frog is more emotionally mature than me?”

“Not at all. In fact, if the two of you were more mature emotionally, the world would be probably now ruled by Anglo-French Empire for centuries.” Puck dived suddenly, stealing a biscuit from Arthur’s plate. He took a bite of it, grimaced and tossed it away carelessly. He wanted to add that it might be an improvement in the food department but that would spoil the mood a bit, he supposed.

“That’s ridiculous.” Arthur grunted and took a sip from his tea cup which only earned him an exasperated sigh from Puck who was now tugging at his sleeve, trying to force the Brit up.

“Well, right now, you have a chance to write your own story, Britannia. Right there in front of you. If you won’t like how it turns out, well... this ending can be erased, right?” He pointed out, still stubbornly tugging.

“For the last time, I don’t have any sodding feelings-“

“Yes, you do. If your actions weren’t enough, you told us that one time you got drunk and accidently found that old dress... tunic... whatever, Gaul –eh, France – brought you. Pity that instead of being this open when you’re out with your fellow nations drinking, you opt to dress in an apron and dance on a table.” Puck rolled his eyes. “For once, you have absolutely nothing to lose; if he laughs, you can just tell him you had to write it for the sake of the story and he was stupid to think it was directed to him.”

Arthur didn’t even notice when he got up (much to Puck’s glee) and sat in front of his computer.

He had no clue how long he stared at the page (Puck was respectfully quiet, for once).

And then he started to type.

_ The knight gave an awkward cough and reached out to respectfully put a hand on the lady’s shoulder. He could see in her eyes that he had hurt her; his brashness of a warrior, his ruthlessness made his ability to deal with the more forward ladies slightly rusty. But now at the sight of the tears pooling in those crystal blue eyes, his hardened heart of a warrior softened. _

_ The lady was still a woman after all so delicate and soft, crying so easily in a way that would shame any real man and many English women but the knight supposed it might be because she was also French. _

_ “I must ask for your forgiveness, madam. That is not how I usually handle these things.” He spoke quietly, his voice gentle and caring yet still manly and firm. “I overstepped my boundaries. Truth to be told... I am a bit unused to such situations. I have never courted or wooed in my life before; and I am afraid my skills are a bit rusty when compared to such an expert like you.” _

_ A true man was not ashamed of his feelings, for he knew when time was right to show them. And so the knight, while never allowing emotions to get better of him, he always knew when it was the time to reveal a bit of his hardened, masculine heart. “I am not a man of love; I am a soldier, a warrior. And you are the woman who plagued my dreams ever since my eyes settled on your comely figure for the first time. This is a situation I have never encountered before, in my countless journeys.” _

Francis stared at his screen, eyes wide and mouth agape. He finally worked up the will to turn it on and write something back to Arthur, after two days of moping around, cursing the day he started this whole farce. And now... here it was. A new entry from rosbif.

And... What an entry it was. It actually made Francis’ head spin, made it feel like his heart would burst because... no way it’s Arthur meaning it like... like Francis thought he did, right?

Right?

Pierre squawked in what sounded a scolding way.

And Francis tipped his head back and laughed loudly, not from amusement but from the pure joy, anxiousness and excitement rapidly building up inside him.

He knew it might not seem like much at all; but it was a beginning and, when it came to his rosbif, a beginning was a whole more than a lot.

_ “Well then... we should work on your courting skills, non?” The lady smiled, now completely appeased. And as she was no ninny, but simply of a sensitive heart, there were no tears on her face; only the dim light of the cave made them twinkle more than usually. “Fear not, my dear sir; I am very fond of challenges. Even more, of challenges I had my eye on for a loooong time...” She gave the man in front of her a genuine smile and adjusted her dress with a gesture so elegant, it was worthy of a princess. _

_ “May I suggest I pick you up at 7 next Monday? And we can see where it goes from there?” _

Arthur re-read the last line a few times, resisting the ridiculous urge to pump his fist in the air and yell, like an excited teenager taking his date to a prom. Instead, he took a victorious sip from his teacup.

And then, his fingers were typing up the reply, even before he had a mind to think of the right words.

_ “That would be most excellent.” _   
**  
THE END **


End file.
